If things were different
by rosesandthistles
Summary: The fallout after the first championship is not good as the Borg team gives Yuriy what they think he deserves for their loss. Years later Yuriy ends up learning under their coach and manager. The three Neoborg members wants to make up with their former captain but Yuriy wants anything but and regrets his life choices. AU-ish.


The championships coincide briefly this year. Just three days, but it's three days enough to run into Sergei. It's time to leave. Immediately. Forget the coffee. It wasn't that important anyway.

With his eyes down, he hopes he blends in so Sergei won't see him, but he's acutely aware his hair is a bright red beacon that's hard to bypass. He makes it out of the coffee shop no problem though, and he breathes freely again. The adrenaline will wear off by the time he's at BBA.

"Yuriy!"

He turns. More like flinch but he hopes it didn't come across as such. Sergei approaches quickly, and Yuriy keeps backing up small steps at a time before he decides he doesn't actually have to face his former team-mate, but Sergei already caught up to him when he's about to turn back.

"Hi," Yuriy says.

Sergei runs a hand through his hair, an obvious sign of discomfort or stress. He doesn't want to see Yuriy as much as Yuriy doesn't want to see him so why did he go out of his way to make them speak when Yuriy had given them the perfect non-confrontation?

"Hi. It's been a while," Sergei says. Not long enough really.

Yuriy nods rigidly. "Sure it has."

"You look good. Been hearing you've been doing well too."

Yuriy gives him a half smile. Because what does he know? His beyblade career is soaring, that's true. He's on his way to negotiate contracts for the second time in two weeks with the most influential and flourishing beyblade agency in the world, and the tournament still has half a week to go, but Sergei doesn't know that. And even so, does that really mean he's doing good? His career is the only thing working well for him. The rest of his life is still a wreck.

"So I've been hearing too," Yuriy says anyway.

Sergei runs his hand through his hand again. Yuriy wants to ask him why he tortures himself with this.

"I just... want to talk? If you have time? You didn't get a coffee or anything in there. We could go back?"

His flight reflex is seriously kicking him now. "Just say what you want to say." It's not that hard. He's never had a problem doing so before.

"Alright... yeah. I want to apologise. For what I did before. In the monastery."

"All right." Yuriy shrugs. Sounds fake, but wasn't so hard, was it?

"I want to apologise properly."

Yuriy snorts and can't help but roll his eyes. Why is he so persistent? He just wants to leave already. He should just leave. "You just did." How else is he going to apologise?

"I didn't even say I'm sorry," Sergei frowns. Why is he arguing?

"Yes, you did. You just used different words. It's fine."

"No. It's not fine." He really looks frustrated.

Yuriy sighs. "Look. This is how I see it," he starts and recites what he has told himself for some time now, "I forgive you, as long as I never have to see you. I've already forgiven you before this. Not right now, but I will again when I don't have to look at you again."

Sergei is silent before he nods. "Alright... okay."

"All right. Bye."

He leaves without listening to Sergei say the same.

* * *

He hadn't counted on the Neoborg team to sign with BBA as well. They're not the larger agency in Russia after all. But maybe they didn't qualify for the others. He hasn't kept track of the team at all. Maybe they're losers. Serves them right if they are.

Either way, even if they are signed with the same association he hadn't imagined they'd ever sit in the same reception. He regrets ever expressing a want to delve into management and coaching cause if they are here for the same meeting...

They are here for the same meeting. At least their coach and manager is. Is it possible to just decline and leave right away?

But then it's just him and three other men, and his past is being escorted elsewhere for the moment. And he's here to discuss his future.

"We picked Andrei and Pyotr to train you. For a period of six months to start with. Andrei's our best coach, and Pyotr is a great manager, and you are familiar with the team. You played with the Neoborg's when you were a teenager, am I right?"

Yuriy wants to spit, and words just spill out of his mouth before he has time to reflect on them, "Yes. Unfortunately, I was kicked off the team. And we didn't part on the best of terms. I can't imagine they'd be happy to have me back."

"On the contrary," Andrei retorts all too cheerfully, "they were receptive to have you observe and participate with their training and management when I discussed it with them. I assumed you would have had some kind of fallout when you left, so I thought it best to discuss it with them before I accepted the position."

Well, fuck that. They probably want the opportunity to gloat. Shove their success in his face like - here is everything you failed to accomplish like you were supposed to. Taking coaching and management is just as well as saying you're quitting beyblade too, even though that's not his plans.

But refusing when the team hasn't refused would seem pitiful of him, so he's forced to say yes. At least to see how it goes, he clarifies, so when enough time has passed he can ask for a transfer. Even if their goal is to have him replace Andrei during his extended holiday.

It's been six years since he ran into Sergei at that coffee shop. Six years since he left the monastery. Nine since he failed to win them that championship. Nine years since Volkov disappeared because Yuriy ruined all his plans.

Now here he is, Andrei teaching him the ways of coaching a beyblade team, Yuriy's former team his subjects of observation. Three people whom he hates, one more than the other.

He's got nothing on them. Hasn't since they disowned him after his big failure as their captain, but he doesn't even have any height on them anymore. Ivan is as tall as Yuriy now, and Boris is a head taller. Sergei's hardly a subject to speak of. All Yuriy sees when he's not looking up at him is his chest.

They don't greet him like old friends, but they greet him friendlier than should be allowed. Last he'd spoke with Boris, Boris had launched his beyblade at him and cut a scar on his back. Sergei had encouraged more than ninety percent of all the attacks and harassment against him, participating at least half the time. He can almost forgive Ivan's deeds because of his young age at the time. He'd still treated Yuriy coldly until Yuriy finally left.

His saving grace is sticking as close to Andrei as he can, pretending he's paying all his attention on the man as he instructs both Yuriy and his team. He goes through this every day with his own coach, he knows the routine.

He can't call them sloppy, cause they got all the movement and balance and snappy edges right, but they aren't as refined as they used to be. Maybe he's the same, he doesn't know, but he enjoys their decline. They're not as good as they used to be. Maybe they're not playing their best because Yuriy is present, because they trust him with their skill as much as Yuriy trusts them, but Andrei is satisfied with their performance which means they weren't performing below their average.

Andrei claps it up. The boys leave.

"Think you can lead next time?"

Yuriy shrugs. He could. "Sure."

* * *

He's way earlier for training than they're supposed to be but he can only stand his own manager pestering him for so long. He's warming up while waiting for time to pass when the gym door opens and closes, and Sergei is the first to arrive. God damn it.

"Hi," Sergei says.

"Hi."

"You're early. Got work done?"

"Yeah. You're early too."

Sergei shrugs. "I'm usually here earlier than the others." Like a good captain.

"Don't you live together?"

"No. Imagine living with Boris."

He doesn't know Boris well enough now to imagine what he'd be like. All he can imagine is a lot of broke stuff. His temper grew unstable and volatile.

"Ivan reunited with his family, so he lives with them."

"Good for him." Good for him. Someone gets a decently nice ending to the monastery.

He really has nothing to say, and Sergei runs out of conversation too, at least for a few awkward moments wherein Yuriy decided to sits down.

"Are you going to join the championships next year? Won't the apprenticeship collide?"

"Depends if I replace Andrei by then or not." His manager has been on him about it since before he signed up for this. He'd wanted Yuriy to wait till after the national championships. Yuriy wanted a break. Do something different with his life before he hits twenty-five. Change up his career. It's already flourishing. Or so he's told anyway.

"I saw the world championships. When you beat Garland. Was about time someone put him in his place."

Garland. He'd been over-confident. Tough. Really tough. Yuriy almost passed out from that battle. But Garland came out one gear short after all the ice and cold he put that beyblade through. He might not have won if it weren't for that.

"What was your score the last tournament?" Yuriy asks.

Sergei runs a hand through his hair. "We lost against the Japs, two to one."

Yuriy nods. He never watches their matches, even the finals. But he knows the G-Revolution had won, and Sergei hadn't lied about the score. Either Takao and his team has become a whole lot better, or Sergei and his team has become sloppier than he's evaluated.

"They're really good. They've become a whole lot better since we faced them," Sergei says like he's reading Yuriy's mind. Yuriy hums, dismissing it. It doesn't matter. It has nothing to do with him. Not his team, not his responsibility.

The doors open and Andrei walks in, finally.

* * *

They've had this debriefing for an hour yet it feels like forever. Is this what his life will be like? Dragged out meetings telling people bullshit? Pyotr is a good manager but overestimates how long these meetings need to be. Maybe he's paid by the hour?

The Neoborgs' have three major events this spring. A few charity events. Not mentioning any smaller engagements in-between. And then it's the world championship. These debriefings usually take Yuriy and his manager fifteen minutes to half an hour tops to discuss, but Pyotr is good at detailing. Maybe too good. Yuriy's ready for air and coffee when they're finally done.

"Yuriy. Want to come with us for lunch?" Sergei asks but they all look expectant. Are they serious?

"Yeah, no, thank you. I have... work... with my own manager, in half an hour," he waves them off and takes off. Sergei needs to stop trying to include him in their activities. Take a hint. Drop it. They're not friends, and they're not team-mates. He's a solo player, not a team player. Yuriy's here for one thing: to learn to coach and manage so he has a back-up for when his beyblade career ends. They don't have that long to go. The decline starts after thirty on average. There's only five years left to go.

Ilya brings the meeting to the coffee shop, because why not. There's good coffee and nice pastries. The environment at headquarters is nice but a change of atmosphere is good for the soul and Ilya prefers to keep things relaxed. It keeps Yuriy in a receptive mood.

With his attention divided, Ilya wants to cram in as much work as he possibly can, make Yuriy's life hell because Ilya thinks branching his opportunities at this point in time is detrimental when Yuriy's career has been on peak since he signed with the association. According to Ilya, Yuriy's beyblade career will hold well past thirty-five, even past forty, but Ilya is also biased as fuck, way too optimistic. He can be annoying because he wants the best for Yuriy and wants Yuriy to be nothing less than he is. Yuriy strives to be like Ilya. Yuriy wouldn't be who he is or be where he is without Ilya. He'll show Ilya he can handle doing both at the same time.

* * *

Pyotr is not happy to have Yuriy around. Not that he says it to his face of course but he can tell because he intervenes everytime someone attempts to talk about the Neoborg's with him. It's not like he can officially advertise or schedule them with any of these people anyway. Pyotr's acting irrationally.

Sergei is a steady presence at his back. A small comfort, only in its familiarity. It's nothing personal.

It's Ivan Yuriy focuses his attention on. He's got the important show at this event and he needs to get into the right head-space, which he still has a hard time getting into. He's still too free-spirited. Not disciplined enough. Even though his spontaneity is an asset, his creativity and flexibility even more so, it's a liability when he refuses to take things seriously and there's a lot of talk to go through to meditate him into his best state of player mind. It might just be an event, but he doesn't want to lose; they don't want to lose. Loss always reflect poorly on the players and can kill your career fast. When Ivan takes his place at the arena Yuriy's not worried he'll fuck up.

"You're good," Andrei sidles up next to him and says, "I guess you know them well. I have a hard time having Ivan listen when he doesn't want to. I've been trying to get him out of it for years."

Yuriy shrugs. It had been his job once upon a time. Ivan's a natural show-off. Mediating him to stick to the plan during their one junior championship together had been harder than this.

"You're a natural coach. You sure you want to become a manager?" Andrei says.

"Why can't I do both?" He can do both. Ilya is both. Many coaches double as managers. There are teams where the leader coach and manage at the same time.

"He's a good captain," Sergei says. Yuriy glances at him but refuses to acknowledge the compliment. You don't say that when you act the complete opposite. If he was a good captain they wouldn't have stabbed him in the back after they lost. Especially when they were abandoned by an idiot like Volkov.

Ivan wins by a landslide. He gets his reward of team-crowding.

"Well done," Yuriy says. Ivan smiles and nods his way.

That's his part done. Event successful. Andrei won't have anything bad to report, and if Pyotr does he'll have to transfer to a new teacher because the man hadn't even let him do his supposed job.

* * *

Sergei shows up first. He's got two coffee cups in hand, one for Yuriy, which he reluctantly accepts.

They're supposed to leave in fifteen minutes. Yuriy should stop waiting at the rendezvous just because he's bored. Someone who's not Andrei or Pyotr always ends up showing up earlier and then it becomes this: awkward and stale, a cold confrontation that's so easy to avoid if just one of them would not show up way before whatever they're doing. Sergei's the worst too because he tries to converse so hard. For now he's blessfully silent, but Yuriy's not holding his breath for it to last. Ilya calling saves him the tension for now.

"Yes?"

"Hello! I know you're going with the Neoborgs' today, but I got a thing going for you."

"Ilya-" Yuriy sighs.

"Don't get pissed! I just got you booked for a small event over there since you'll be there anyway."

"A warning would have been nice," Yuriy says irritated.

"I'm warning you now!"

"A wider time-frame would have been nicer!" No point in arguing if it's already done though. He sighs. "All right. Fine. What time is it?"

"Half two. I'm sorry to push it on you, but it was a last-minute replacement deal, and it's going to make you look good."

Yuriy snorts. "I already good."

"You'll look even better! Just win for me, alright."

"Yeah, sure. Of course." He never plans to lose.

"I'll see you later then. Good luck with the 'Borgs'."

"Yes, thank you. Bye."

He's aware of Sergei's curious gaze as he pockets his phone. He's got a topic now. Cue the forced conversation.

"Your manager?"

"Yeah."

"What did he want?"

"He booked me for an event nearby yours. I'll have to leave early." He'll miss about an hour. It's not too bad.

"Pretty sudden decision."

"Well, someone dropped out last minute it seems. They needed a replacement."

"And their first thought is of the reigning national champion?"

What's that supposed to mean? "I don't know. Maybe Ilya knows the arranger."

Blessed be Ivan showing up with Andrei.

"They're lucky they got you," Sergei says before the two of them join them.

"Yeah. I guess."

* * *

Yuriy feels pretty good about leaving the battle event early. Boris is just playing around, because plain knocking the opponent out would be against their terms. They're supposed to entertain. They have a schedule to follow.

The small event he's supposed to attend is held inside, compared to the Neoborgs' held outside. The small event is also not that small. He should have twigged it wasn't since Ilya jumped on it without running it by Yuriy first at such a short notice. There's association representatives all over the place.

"What is this?" he has time to ask Ilya between the handshakes and small talk.

"An opportunity to further your career," Ilya says kind of smug. Yuriy just looks at him, waiting for an elaboration, but Ilya doesn't give him one.

"What does that mean?"

"You want to branch out. I'm helping."

"Ilya!"

"Impress these people and you'll have a chance at the international league."

He wants to retort, that he's already at world league level, but then, most of the time he only works within Russia.

"Yes, there will be a battle. Win, and you'll most likely earn sponsors for the world championships."

Yuriy gapes because he has nothing to say. Ilya knows how hard the world league is. Yuriy has attempted it before. Last he attended the world championships he had to pull out after his battle against Garland because he'd been strapped down in the hospital. He hasn't had a noticeable victory there since he was seventeen.

"No one will want me. Last time I played in the world championships I collapsed. It's on record, Ilya!"

"Don't worry about it! It happens to the best of them! You're way better now than you were then!"

"I'm almost twenty-five! No one will invest in me at this point! I'm too old!"

"On the contrary. You still have a lot to offer. You're talented and skilled. I'm sure these people will see it too. They're experts. You're the best beyblader in Russia!"

Yuriy sighs. He's here already. But he has a bad feeling. Pressure, he realises. He hasn't felt pressure in a long time.

"Don't worry about it. Just be you. And win." Ilya gives him a pat on the back.

"Yeah. Thanks for the pep-talk, coach."

"Always, my friend."

Yuriy does his best with whatever charm he has, but he's never had to actively impress this many important people at the same time. He's always had it easy like that. It's not working to his advantage now.

It's an apprehensive hour and a half that passes before the lights settle on the host.

"How many bladers are here?" Yuriy asks Ilya.

Ilya shrugs, a guessing tug on his mouth. "About twenty?"

"So the basis is just to impress?" It's not a proper battle. There is no one winner. There's only one shot.

"Yeah. Just show what you got. Winning is always an advantage though."

"I know that. I always fight to win, you know that."

"I know." Ilya pats his back.

He's second up, thank God. The point is to drag it out but not lose. There's no point knocking him straight out. Winning is good, but it doesn't mean the person has the skills or talent to do it again, and this is all about showing off their skills.

He catches Wolborg mid-air while his opponent collects their beyblade from the bottom of the arena.

"Well done! That was perfect!" Ilya says, his hands on his arms comfortably.

"I hope so," Yuriy says, not entirely convinced as he only focuses on moves he could have done much more impressive.

He hears his name called, and sees Andrei and the team coming up to them.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Yuriy questions when they're close enough he doesn't have to raise his voice.

"We wanted to see how you would do," Sergei says.

"You did great," Boris says like a congratulation.

Ivan whacks Boris in the side. "That's it? That was fucking slaughter! It was amazing!"

"It was not that good," Yuriy retorts. He wants to escape their exaggerations.

"Uh, yes! It was!" Ivan enforces.

"-we'll be here until six or seven," he hears Ilya tell Andrei. The team can't stick around for two hours.

"Yeah, we're packing up. It's time to go. You did great, Yuriy! Hope you get a good score. See you tomorrow," Andrei says and then herds the guys towards the exit.

"And I thought they were intimidating on TV," Ilya comments, making Yuriy snort. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

"I thought you were acting a bit strange."

"Yeah, no. I'm fine. They just overwhelm me."

Ilya levels him with a look. Doesn't he know enough of his past with them to know there's some tension between them?

Yuriy gives in. "I'll... tell you later, okay?"

Ilya nods to that.


End file.
